A Little Family
by LostatDownton
Summary: Sherlock Holmes may be dead, but John is trying to raise a family, trying to get over the life he was living at 221b Baker Street. Trying to forget his love for Sherlock. But then John's wife dies, and he's left with no one but his two children... Until Sherlock turns up again, and he's clearly... alive. (AU Parentlock, Johnlock!)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: A Little Family

John Watson was only just starting to rebuild his life. His daughter, Anna Diane Watson, was two years old, and his wife, Amelia, was clearly happy. They were living in London, even though his long hours kept him busy. He was grateful, because he didn't like having time to think. He didn't want to think about any of it, Sherlock, the cases or the untimely death of his dearest friend… and the love he felt so strongly for Sherlock.

It was a few weeks after Anna turned two that John went on his blog, opening a new post, and starting to write.

_**The Blog of Dr. John H. Watson**_

_January 30__th_

_I think it's a terrible and beautiful coincidence that Anna was born on Sherlock's birthday (Jan. 6__th__)… I miss him. I've been going over old posts, and one in particular caught my eye.. "A Study in Pink". Our very first case. It has been almost three years since Sherlock died, and Amelia tries to understand, but how can she? Occasionally, I go see Molly, or Lestrade, but what do we say to each other? All we ever did was moan about bloody Sherlock. I saw Anderson the other day, but I couldn't talk to him, he was such an arse to Sherlock (although Sherlock was probably worse). I can still remember to this day agreeing to be Sherlock's flatmate, not knowing what I was getting into. I miss him, God I miss him. Why does he have to be dead? I can't deal with dead. He was a hero, no matter what any newspapers said._

John closed his computer, and called out. "Amelia!"

"Yes love?" She asked, appearing in the door. "Anna's in bed."

"What's wrong with me?" He asked softly, knowing the pain in his voice was evident.

"What were you writing?" She asked, worried. "I thought you'd stopped writing your blog after Sherlock died?"

"Please…" He whispered, standing and walking to her. "Don't talk about him. Can we talk about better things?"

"Like what?" She asked smiling, before her face turned serious. "John, I have to tell you something."

"What?" He asked, noticing her tears. "What's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant again." She said with a teary smile.

"How many months?" He asked, amazed.

"Five." She said. "I don't know, I must have been so wrapped up with Anna, I mustn't have noticed, you're not angry, are you?"

He grinned at her. "My God, Amelia, of course I'm not angry! I'm excited! When did you go to the doctor's?"

"This afternoon. I know what the sex is too. John, it's a boy." She said, and he wrapped her in his arms, kissing her forehead. "That's wonderful, Lia!" He said, unable to stop himself from grinning like a fool.

It was only a few more months that John was standing beside his wife in the delivery room, as she panted and gasped.

The doctor finally proudly proclaimed. "It's a boy!" and John couldn't help himself, he was sobbing. But then one of the nurses cried out.

"Doctor! Something's wrong!"

The doctor didn't even move, he just ordered. "Get Mr. Watson out of the room!" John was ushered out of the room, and he paced the halls nervously, unsure of what was going on. The doctor finally walked out. His hands were bloody. "Mr. Watson?" He asked softly.

"Yes?" John said, standing up.

"I am afraid to tell you that your wife is died. We couldn't stop her hemorrhaging, and she bled to death. I'm sorry."

"Is the baby okay?" John blurted out, unable to comprehend that Amelia, his precious Amelia, was dead.

"Baby is fine, he weighed at six pounds, three ounces. He'll be okay. Do you have anyone you can call, anyone who can be with you?" Asked the doctor softly.

_Sherlock, the only person I'd want is Sherlock. _John thought, before banishing the thought from his mind. Sherlock was dead. "My sister… Harriet. I'll call her." He said, instantly regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. "Can I see the baby?"

The doctor nodded, taking him into the nursery, and carefully handing him the baby boy. "Any ideas for a name?" He asked.

"Hamish. Hamish Sherlock Watson." He said. When he walked out into the hallway, he leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Amelia was dead. She couldn't be dead. But she was. _Just like Sherlock, the people I love the most are dying the fastest. _He couldn't allow himself to think like that.

A few days later, he brought Hamish home, and Anna was there too. Harriet was staying with him, and he finally did what he had to do to get his feelings out.

_**The Blog of Dr. John H. Watson**_

_May 12__th_

_My wife, Amelia, is dead. Just like Sherlock. She died giving birth to our second child, our second son, Hamish Alexander Watson. He was born on May 7__th__, and is currently healthy. Harry is staying with me until I get back on my feet, but honestly, I need someone from the "old days."Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, even Mycroft. I'd love to see any of them right now. They know me, they know about Sherlock, which is more than most people. I think I'm in trouble. Sherlock has been dead for almost three years, and my wife has been dead for five days. How can I live when the two people I considered closest to me are dead? They were too young, too good to die so soon. Signing off now, I can hear Hamish screaming in the next room. _


	2. Chapter 2

John was trying to get some time off work to spend with Hamish and Anna, but it was hard finding time to do so when he was so busy at the surgery. The only good thing about working so hard, was that he didn't have time to think about Amelia and Sherlock. Four months passed.

It was one afternoon, when his secretary walked in. "Dr. Watson, you have a visitor." She said, sounding perplexed. "A government official is here to see you."

He stood up. "Send them in." He said, and was still standing, when a surprise walked in. Mycroft Holmes stood in front of him, looking thinner than he had the last time John had seen him.

"John." He said, holding his hand out.

"Mycroft. What are you doing here?" He tried not to remember the last time he'd grown outraged at Mycroft for selling out Sherlock- but the past was the past, wasn't it?

"John, you're going to have to come with me." He said calmly.

"Why?" John asked, confused. "I have to be getting home, Mycroft, I'm very busy-."

"I've taken the liberty of having your calendar cleared for the rest of the afternoon. Come on, John. I have a taxi waiting."

Without another word, Mycroft swept out of the room. John couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Same old Mycroft. He walked out after him, down to the taxi cab.

Once they were in the taxi, Mycroft said. "I was sorry to hear about your wife."

"Still spying on me, I see. Even though your brother is dead." John said, the words hurting.

"Congratulations on your son. I believe his name is Hamish… Hamish Sherlock Watson, I hear?" Mycroft sounded interested, but a genuine note of sadness resounded in his voice.

"So… Where are we going?" John asked.

"You'll see, John. You'll see." Mycroft muttered.

As they drove on, John said. "What have you been up to?"

"Same as what everyone else has been up to. Coping. My mother nearly killed me when she found out about my selling out Sherlock. I honestly feel only slight remorse at it."

"I see you've lost a few pounds." John commented.

"How very much like my brother you act, making comments about my weight. Yes, thank you, I have. How is family life suiting you?"

"It suits me well. I never thought I'd be a father." But his unspoken words were more like _I never thought I'd have children because I wanted to marry Sherlock. Not that he ever would have felt the same but still. _

They continued driving on, through the busy streets of London. Mycroft occasionally glanced at his watch, as though waiting for something.

John's phone rang. He checked it. It was the babysitter. He picked up. "Hello Charlene, I'll be home soon. I'm sorry, I got busy at the office. I can pay you tomorrow, if you want to drop the kids off at Harry's, that will be fine."

"No, John, it's okay. I can watch them for another hour or so."

"I'll have to pay you more, I promise."

"No, no trouble. You don't have to. I hope everything is okay?"

"Yes." He said. "I got called to a government meeting against my will. So I don't know when I'll be back."

"Against your will?" She asked, sounding curious.

"Yes, a government official that I used to be acquainted with summoned me to an as yet unknown location. I presume I shouldn't take too long."

"As long as you're sure, I'll drop them off at Harry's if you're not back by six. Is that okay, John?"

"Yeah, that's fine. Thanks Charlene." He hung up, only to see Mycroft staring at him.

"I see you've resumed contact with your sister?" He said. "Has she stopped drinking?"

"She has now that she's helping me. Hopefully for good. But no idea."

"If I was my brother, I'd make some rude comment. But he's not here. Who do you hear from these days, John? Anyone from your old life?"

"I've spoken to Lestrade a couple of times, but that's it. Oh and Molly."

"Ah Molly, she was such a nice young girl. Pity she was in love with my brother. He was always the heartless type." Mycroft sighed.

"As heartless as you?" John asked under his breath. He knew Mycroft had heard him. But instead, he pulled his laptop out and started a new post.

_**The Blog of Dr. John H. Watson**_

_September 14__th_

_Well, just like the old days, I've been kidnapped by a government official bent on some mysterious intent. Just like the first time I met Mycroft Holmes actually. What a shocker that he showed up at my office! Now we're driving across London to I have no idea where. Should be interesting. And for those of you who don't remember, Mycroft was Sherlock's brother, who loved sticking his nose in our business. _

Mycroft looked over, a smirk crossing his face briefly, before disappearing in the rapidly growing shadows. "Still working at that blog I see."

"Not nearly as many readers as when I actually had something to write about, but it's not as bad. It helps me cope."

"I assume you've lost readership since my brother…" Mycroft trailed off, not saying anything.

Finally, they pulled up in front of their destination. John got out of the car, and found himself holding back tears as he saw where they were. Right in front of the door to 221b Baker Street. His old flat. His and Sherlock's flat.

He followed Mycroft inside. Mrs. Hudson was waiting in the doorway, and pulled him in for a hug. "John, how nice it is to see you again, dear. Go right on upstairs."

Mycroft nodded at Mrs. Hudson, but didn't say anything else. He nodded towards the stairs, still looking at John. Unsure of what he would find at the top, he climbed up them slowly.

At the top of the stairs, he slowed down, as he stood in the doorway. He looked up, only to see the black overcoat, and curly black hair of the man standing at the window. _It can't be… _John thought.

And then Sherlock Holmes turned around. He smiled.

"Hello, John."


End file.
